


your lips taste as sweet as summer wine

by wyrmbloods



Series: wolmeric week 2021. [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, Wolmeric Week (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyrmbloods/pseuds/wyrmbloods
Summary: formal events just aren't really artorius' thing, but at least aymeric is good at keeping attention away from him.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Series: wolmeric week 2021. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190189
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	your lips taste as sweet as summer wine

**Author's Note:**

> for wolmeric week on twitter! the first day's prompt is 'formal' and i really vaguely followed it.

“I feel like an idiot, Tataru.” The Warrior of Light is many things, yet his skillset does not include formal events and _socializing_ with everyone he already works with. Bad enough he was in this uncomfortable outfit and his makeup choices weren’t any better, choosing such a dark red lipstick to go with the outfit Tataru had picked out for him. “Can’t I just go back to the Rising Stones and call it a night?”

“Maybe if you smiled a little, you’d look like less of one! It’s a party, Artorius! Live a little!” Artorius groans at the younger Lalafell, nervously eyeing the glass of champagne he’s had since the night started. “Maybe get another drink and have a sip before it goes flat this time! What’s the worst that could happe--”

“Oh, I don’t know--getting poisoned, getting accused of regicide _again_ …”

“Alright, alright. I get it. You’re just cranky because your _boyfriend_ keeps ignoring you to talk politics and work.” Tataru clicks her tongue. “I don’t think Ser Aymeric would mind if you cut into one of his conversations and rescued him.”

“Oh, I would hate to deprive anyone else of his company.” He sighs, swirling the contents of his glass and staring as if they're suddenly incredibly fascinating. “I’m going to be cranky until I get out of this outfit and in bed, Tataru. Why don’t you go chat up...anyone else? Literally anyone else in this room but me.”

“You’re a real tart, you know that?” The Lalafell woman trots off, leaving the Warrior of Light to brood and lean against the wall.

Artorius has been a _delight_ every time someone very important has cornered him into a conversation this evening; he can only keep up the pleasant conversationalist act for so long and so many people in a row. At least he gets to watch Aymeric chat up half the room all at once. Speaker Borel looks so fetching in his royal blue suit and his hair uncharacteristically slicked over one ear, ‘tis no wonder that half the room is entranced by whatever anecdote he is recalling. His partner's mind is wandering to how much nicer that outfit would look off of him, on the floor possibly. 

(He is recounting the trial himself, Alphinaud and Artorius faced in Sohr Khai against Hraesvelgr and embellishing _many_ details about his partner’s heroics as if he didn’t nearly fall to his death many a time during a poorly timed jump.)

The Elder Seedseer gasps at the prospect of riding bare on dragonback while Lord Hien lets out a hearty chuckle at the story. Artorius’ ears perk up at the sound of heels on tile grow close to him, and he is greeted by Lucia looking equally as bored as him. He can't recall ever seeing her in anything but her armor, so seeing her in formal dress is strange. Strange in a good way, of course. 

“If you wanted a moment alone with him, you need only ask. I’ve become quite accustomed to making up reasons for the Lord Commander to disappear for a few hours…” She raises an eyebrow, before drinking her entire glass of wine in one gulp. “He’s missed you, terribly. If I have to hear him wax poetic about your eyes when he thinks no one can hear him in his office one more time…”

“M-my apologies.” He sweats, only a little at the thinly veiled threat. “Work keeps us both busy, after all. And he is rather...occupied.” Artorious looked away for a moment, and he can’t see Aymeric anymore, only the crowd of noble ladies who seem to have swarmed him. “If you happen to find him in that mess and free him, he can find me in the Royal Menagerie.” The older elezen gives a half hearted salute, before leaving the grand ballroom behind him.

* * *

‘Tis poor form to be sitting in the flowerbeds, crushing such lovely pink blooms beneath his light blessed arse, but it _is_ blissfully quiet here. Artorius can’t quite recall which spot where Zenos nearly beheaded himself and makes sure to not think too deeply about his confrontation here many moons ago. He may disturb the peace with screaming. 

He sheds his fancy jacket and vest that threatens to choke him, before idly picking the flowers around him and weaving a flower crown; it becomes more of a sash as he gets lost in the activity. The man hums, letting his mind go as blank as he can allow while still retaining useful control of his hands.

Footsteps, again, disturb his peace. 

“Artorius, my dear!” Aymeric calls out, practically sprinting up to the older elezen. “Lucia told me you would be here. May I sit with you?” He smiles, rosy cheeked and holding up a bottle of wine and two glasses. 

“Aye, I think your company would be appreciated.” The redhead smiles, barely feigning whatever aloof facade he’s kept most of the night in the presence of the other man. “Had a couple drinks, have you?”

“Just one, Lord H--hic!--ien insisted I partake of some Doman speciality rice wine and it went to my head a bit quick.” He almost giggles as he sits down next to the other man, laying his head on Artorius’ shoulder. “Lady Yugiri gave me this and said it tastes better with company, before distracting another imperial province representative form asking for my hand in marriage _again_. I think she's changed outfits and hairstyles four times tonight.” 

“Oh, do I have competition?” Artorious is joking, of course, not even looking at Aymeric as he speaks and finishes his little project. "Shall I strut back out there and assert my dominance?"

“ **_Never_ **.” Aymeric’s face grows stern for a moment, emphasizing how serious he is. “Absence makes the heart fonder, and with how rare it is I get to be with you…you...know what I mean. I’ve talked too much tonight...” Eyebrows furrow. "I tire of the sound of my own voice, I would much rather be graced with yours." 

“Seems you need more alcohol, then.” The Warrior of Light grins, holding up the bottle and examining it. “We drink this, though, we’re both bound for a hangover tomorrow.” 

“A hangover is a kinder fate than the mound of paperwork that’s accumulated on my desk upon my return tomorrow. Take the glasses and give me that bottle, I have a trick to show you.” The pair switch items, and Aymeric pulls the ceremonial saber on his hip out of its sheath, angling the bottle just so and practicing the movement to open it with a flick of his blade. The older elezen suddenly wishes he was better trained in the healing arts than his meager education in Sharlayan Astrology, because he forsees broken glass in skin even without the deck of sixty. 

“Should I be taking a couple of steps back?” _Many, many steps mayhap._

“I’ve had but one drink tonight, I promise you I am the furthest thing from a safety hazard to you.” A pause. “I also failed to procure a corkscrew, so we’ll simply have to make do.” He looks the other man in the eye, and takes off the neck of the wine bottle in one fluid motion with a grin. “See, perfectly capable.” 

“I do like it when you prove me wrong.” 

Wine is poured and they are both pleasantly surprised at how sweet it is. Artorius hasn’t had plum wine in what feels like lifetimes, and usually it would only be a sip or two on a holiday. Now he gets to enjoy a whole bottle, alone with Aymeric, beneath the stars of Ala Mhigo.

(Alone for _now_ , at least.)

They end up laying down in the flowers together, side by side, looking up at the sky with fingers intertwined. So rare have the moments been where time with Aymeric was not spent in the frozen highlands of Coerthas or on a battlefield. Artorius wishes they could spend a day or two like this, alone, but they both have responsibilities...he feels Aymeric shift next to him, inching ever closer. 

“I haven’t kissed you since you left to cross Baelsar’s Wall, you know.” Aymeric smiles, face flush with either embarrassment or the wine. Both is the best answer. “M-may I?” He may be buzzed, but he is not going to forget his _manners_.

“We have been dating for almost two years, Aymeric.” _He is like a schoolboy, sometimes._ "You do not need my permission for things I have long agreed to."

“Most of that time has been spent writing letters back and forth across battlefields, _Artorius.”_ A hand reaches to cup the older elezen’s face, and he leans into the touch with a sigh. Aymeric's bare hand is soft, not being his sword bearing one. “How I’ve missed the feeling of your sun-kissed skin, the way my fingers feel as they run through your maroon hair, how your right eye shines like gold in the sunlight and your left like a finely cut emeral--”

“Please. Shut up and kiss me, won’t you?” Artorius presses an index finger to the raven haired elezen's lips to silence his poetics. He will indulge it for as long as the man wants later, when their privacy and alone time is guaranteed.

“Yes dear.” 

The distance between the men is closed ever so quickly as Artorious climbs on top of Aymeric, straddling his hips as they kiss sloppily; under normal circumstances Aymeric would not allow such wanton displays of public affection, but by the twelve does he hunger for his lover. His hands wander to cup and promptly squeeze the older man’s ass, which earns him a moan that is promptly swallowed. They grind against each other, but quickly resort to merely kissing; neither of them should return to the event turned on, for that would be incredibly bad form. 

(There’s a part of Artorious that feels a little bad for ruining the gardens with _this_ but not nearly bad enough to stop.)

Aymeric tastes sweet like the wine they were drinking prior and he is wont to savor it for a moment longer than he should. The younger man’s eyes are closed as Artorius pulls away, and he has a terrible idea as he looks at his lips, smeared red from their kiss. 

“Keep your eyes closed until I say so, Aymeric.”

“Of course.” 

“Good.” The Warrior of Light smiles, reaching over to grab the tube of lipstick in the breast pocket of his jacket and reapplying it thickly, before kissing Aymeric’s face and throat repeatedly until he’s satisfied with the mess he’s made. He even makes sure to leave stairs on the collar of his _pristine_ and _finely pressed_ white shirt, for good measure. “We should head back, before someone worries...or finds us.”

“Mm, unfortunately.” Aymeric looks up, and sighs. “Will you at least come home with me, to Ishgard? I know duty will call soon but I...”

“I’ll consider it, but mayhap this time you'll have to come to me.” Artorius gives a wry smile as he stands up and off of his lover, picking up his discarded clothing and redressing. “But you return first, so no one has any awkward questions.” 

“I’m sure my adoring public awaits.”Aymeric takes a moment to smooth out his clothes, and wipes off any errant pollen or petals that found their way onto him. He, of course, is entirely unconcerned with his face. _Foolish_. “Don’t tarry too far behind me, I would like to tell a story with you to correct me on the details for once.” 

“Yes, yes.” The Lord Commander gives a bow, before unsteadily walking off toward the palace proper.

Artorius has a feeling that Aymeric is going to have words for him upon his reentrance. 

* * *

Aymeric is in the midst of making a toast to the Eorzean Alliance’s newfound strength and camaraderie when Artorious weaves himself into the giggling and snickering crowd.

“Is he _aware_?”

“He must have noticed that much of it on his face.”

“The better _question_ is who put it on him.”

It takes everything in him to not burst out laughing as he watches Aymeric give one of his impassioned speeches with genuine sincerity, face covered in kiss marks. A tug at his sleeve, and he sees Yugiri at his side, arms crossed.

“Lord Artorius, it seems my gift made a mess.” The young au'ra sighs, and shakes her head. 

“I’ve not a clue what you speak of. The wine was lovely. I, however, have definitely made a mess of my own accord.” He smiles, snagging a glass of champagne off a passing servant and sipping. “No one has the heart to tell him?”

“Not a soul. I believe they are having too much fun trying to guess what noble lady did the deed...how far off the mark they are.” She smiles up at Artorius, and they both have a good laugh. "It improved your mood, so there is that."

"Indeed it did."

* * *

  
Later that night when Aymeric returns to his guest quarters, he has _many words_ for the Warrior of Light via linkpearl. 

Artorius doesn't get the satisfaction of seeing the Lord Commander in the flustered state he was hoping, which is truly unfortunate. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @lievetels for more soft aymeric posting


End file.
